School Days
by le-struudel
Summary: John Watson is new to Greenwood, and decides to befriend the school freak: Sherlock Holmes. Sherlock and his drug dealer, Jim Moriarty, decide to have a little fun with John. But as unlikely friendships are formed, not everything goes according to plan.
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter 1 **- _The New Kid._

**Summary**- John Watson is new to Greenwood Elementary, and doesn't seem to understand why the other students shun the strange curly-haired boy from Science class. However, trying to be-friend him eventually gives him the answer.

**Disclaimer**- I do not own any of these characters, they belong to the wonderful Steven Moffat and Mark Gatiss. 

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><p>Green. That was all John Watson could see, as far as his eyesight was concerned. Green trees, green grass, green plants, and hell, even the school uniforms of passing kids has green on them. Of course, it was to be expected; the town <em>was <em>named Greenwood. John vaguley wondered if the joke would still be considered funny, but decided against it. He was not going to make any new friends by making bad puns about the town.  
>John sighed, his breath fogging up the car window his head was resting against. <em>This town is too green<em>, he thought. He missed the clear skies and hot sun from his old home. Here, the skies were grey, and the clouds looked constantly on the verge of exploding with rain. Even as that thought crossing his mind, a few drops spattered onto the car's windscreen, blurring his view of the road in front of him. His mother sighed, flicking a switch to her left, and John watched as the drops were swept away by the wipers.  
>He could tell that his mother was about as impressed with this weather as he was. But neither of them uttered a word of complaint; they left that to Harry, who was sitting in the back seat, uttering a constant stream of chatter into her bright pink mobile phone.<br>"It's terrible here," she whined. "We've been here for like, 5 minutes, and I already hate it. It's too _green_ ... yes, I miss you too. Of course I'll visit, you _are_ my girlfriend. I won't make you come here, the weather is shit."  
>John's mother glared at Harry in the rearview mirror. "Language, Harry."<br>Harry ignored her. "The shopping mall looks okay, but nothing like the one back at home ...". John blocked out his sister's chatter and turned his attention to the house they had just pulled up next to. It was exactly the same as all the other houses on the street; two story, but small, not big enough for a back garden. It was squeezed in between two other houses, with a small front garden covered in green grass, with a little white fence.  
>It looked okay to John, but nothing like his old home. This one wasn't half as inviting. But as his father had taken more than half of their money with the divorce, it was all they could afford at the moment.<br>As his mother turned off the engine and Harry snapped her phone shut in the back, John caught sight of a pair of eyes peeking through the curtains of a window next door. As soon as their eyes met, the curtains rustled shut. John hoped that whoever it was, they were friendly. His old neighbours hadn't been the kind you invite 'round for Sunday barbeques.  
>Getting out of the car, John helped his mother unpack the boxes from the trailer on the back of their car. Harry had already skipped through the little white gate and up the garden path; she was now unlocking the front door and disappearing inside. John knew she was racing upstairs to claim the best bedroom. He scowled.<p>

An hour later, all the boxes were inside and sorted, waiting to be unpacked, no thanks to Harry, who had promptly claimed the bedroom facing out the back of the house, towards the looming forrest. John had been left to take the bedroom facing out onto the street, which wouldn't have been too bad if the houses across the street weren't blocking his view of the park behind them.  
>The house already had furniture; it had belonged to their rich cousins, who had left to travel Europe, and had only asked for a small price. All they had to do was unpack they're belongings, and there weren't that many. John carried his boxes upstairs, dumping them on the bed and collapsing next to them. He stared up at the ceiling and hoped, prayed, that he would make at least one friend at school tomorrow.<p>

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><p>Sherlock Holmes watched as the little car rolled to a stop outside the house next door. Jim had mentioned he was getting new neighbours, and Sherlock had scowled with distaste. He despised his current neighbours, and wished that <em>he<em> was getting new ones. But he lived on the other end of town, and the houses there were rarely purchased or sold, as they were so expensive.  
>He watched as a girl about 4 years older than him jumped out of the car and skipped up the garden path. <em>Lesbian, clearly<em>, he thought, yawning. He had a rare gift of knowing other's life stories after glancing at them for all but a few seconds. Well, he hardly described it as a _gift_, as others might call it. He called it _observation_, something that other's were clearly too stupid to use.  
>He switched his gaze the the boy in the front seat of the car. He had sandy blonde hair and was wearing a stripey sweater. Just as Sherlock began deducing him, the boy turned and they made eye contact. Sherlock yanked the curtains closed and scowled.<br>"Found 'em. He'd hidden 'em under the fucking floorboards. He's too stupid for words," a voice drawled from behind Sherlock.  
>He turned to see Jim Moriarty coming through the living room door, juggling a pack of joints in his hand, rolling his eyes and sneering.<br>"He'll never learn." Sherlock caught the box that Jim chucked to him. He dug his hand in his pocket and pulled out a few pounds, handing them over to Jim before walking out the front door.  
>As he walked up the garden path and out onto the footpath, he glanced at the woman struggling with the boxes next door. The boy he'd been watching from the window ran out of the house and took a few boxes from the woman, helping her carry them inside.<br>Sherlock turned and walked up the street, away from the new boy and his mother. He wondered what they would think if they knew they'd moved next door to a drug dealer. Smirking, he took a shortcut throuugh the park and headed towards the other end of town.

Sherlock didn't have many friends. The very few that he did have, he didn't call them _friends_. More like people who acknowledged his existence every now and then. For example, his drug dealer, Jim, who he only spoke to outside of school. Then there was Lestrade, the school prefect. It was his duty to be nice to everyone, though, so Sherlock didn't think much of it. And lastly, there was little Molly Hooper, a little stalker he'd unwillingly gained from the year below.  
>So it came as a great surprise when the empty seat next to him in the Science lab suddenly became occupied. Sherlock turned to see the sandy-haired boy who had moved next door to Jim.<br>Sherlock frowned. He opened his mouth angrily to tell him to clear off, when the other boy spoke first.  
>"Hello."<br>Sherlock scowled. He didn't have time to waste with general chit chat. He ignored the other boy and turned back to his experiment.  
>"I'm John. What's your name?"<br>"I'm busy," retorted Sherlock, annoyed. He didn't like to be interrupted when he was concentrating.  
>"That's a funny name," replied John. "What are you doing?"<br>"Go away," Sherlock snapped, scribbling down some notes in his book.  
>John opened his mouth to say something, then thought better of it. He got up and walked away. Sherlock glanced over and saw him take a set next to a curly-haired girl, who turned to talk to him.<br>The teacher walked in at that moment, and the everyone turned their attention to him. Everyone except Sherlock. He remained absorbed in his experiment, peering through a microscope and scribbling down notes.  
>"Mr Holmes!" Sherlock was snapped back to reality. The teacher was glaring at him. "<em>Freak"<em>, someone hissed.  
>Sherlock scowled and and glared out the window as the teacher continued to drone on about something that Sherlock registered as unimportant. He day-dreamed about scence equations and skulls until class ended. He packed his books into his bags and raced out the door with the other students.<em><br>_

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><p>John scanned the room of his first ever class at Greenwood Elementary. It was Science, a subject he was never very good at back at his old school.<br>He spied an empty seat next to a thin boy with curly black hair and sharp cheekbones. It was, in fact the only empty seat in the room. John wondered why there was no one next to him; he looked friendly enough.  
>John wandered over and sat in the empty seat, turning to the other boy, just as he turned to face him. He had, John noticed with a shock, startling blue-grey eyes, that seemed to have a tinge of green in the under the light. It was then that John regristered the boy's expression; it was stoney and cold.<br>"Hello," John said, smiling. The boy scowled and turned back to his work without answering.  
>John hesitated. "I'm John. What's your name?"<br>"I'm busy," the boy replied rudely, scribbling down notes in his book.  
>"That's a funny name," John joked, hoping the lighten the tension. When the boy didn't react, he continued.<br>"What are you doing?"  
>"Go away," the boy snapped, and John flinched. Maybe this was the reason nobody had been occupying this seat.<br>John was about to snap back, but seemed to think better of it. This was not the best way to make friends. So he looked around and saw another empy chair he'd overlooked before, next to a girl with long, curly red hair. He got up and walked over, hoping she was a little more friendly.  
>"Hello!" She greeted him as he sat down. "You must be the new boy. I'm Jamie," she offered.<br>John smiled. She was very pretty. "I'm John, and yes, I'm new," he replied. "Say, who's that boy over there? I just tried to talk to him, and he was pretty rude ..."  
>Jamie looked in the direction John had gestured to. "Oh," she sighed. "Don't talk to him. He's a total weirdo. Doesn't have any friends, and seems to prefer it that way. He's always doing these stupid experiments, and I don't think I've ever seen him smile at all."<br>John frowned. "Yes, but what's his name?"  
>"We call him the Freak," Jamie replied.<br>John laughed, then turned serious again. "But what's his real name?"  
>Jamie turned and faced the front before answering; the teacher had just walked in.<br>"His name is Sherlock Holmes."

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><p><strong><em>Well, there you are! My first attempt at writing. Hopefully I did alright.<em>**  
><strong><em>This chapter is pretty non-interesting, just introducing characters and stuff. I promise it'll get more interesting!<em>**  
><strong><em>Reviews would be lovely! I'd like to know if I'm doing alright so far.<em>**


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2 - The Bet.**

**Summary - Jim and Sherlock decide to have a little fun with John.**

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><p>Jim Moriarty sat crosse-legged on his bedroom floor, leaning against his bed. The room was filled with smoke, and he coughed a little before taking another long puff of his joint.<br>Sebastian Moran sat across the room, watchig Jim with a bored expression.  
>"Come on, Seb," coughed Jim. "Just try it."<br>He held out the joint to Seb, who remained seated, his expression turning to disgust.  
>Jim sighed. Sebastian was his only friend, but he wouldn't smoke anything. Jim was constantly trying to change his mind, but Seb refused every time.<br>"Fine," Jim snapped. He finished the rest of the joint and closed his eyes, leaning back against the bed.  
>When he opened his eyes, Seb was still watching him, smirking slightly. It annoyed Jim, that Sebastian wouldn't join him. But he was grateful that Seb put up with him. Jim had no other friends, and had liked it that way. Then he met Seb. Seb was different to the others. He wasn't an arrogant jerk, and he made an effort to talk to Jim every day. After a while, Jim had responded, and the two became close friends. He often wondered, though, how Seb managed to put up with his constant drug use and bad habits.<br>Jim stared back into Seb's big, brown eyes. One of the reasons he'd let Seb get close to him was the boy's undeniable attractiveness. Jim had been gay since as long as he could remember, and he had a soft spot for Seb.  
>Before Jim could ask Seb what he was smirking at, the doorbell rang downstairs.<br>He sighed, getting up and opening his bedroom door, releasing the smoke into the hallway. Jogging downstairs, he switched the hall light on; his parents were out, and he hadn't felt the need to have any lights on in the house.  
>Unlocking the door, he swung it open to reveal Sherlock, tapping his foot impatiantly.<br>"Finally," Sherlock snarled, pushing past Jim into the house. "Give me some. I need some. Please," he added.  
>Jim sighed. "Don't you have any other friends you can bug," he scowled.<br>"Friends are unneccesary." Sherlock stated simply. "I've got the money, now hand some over."  
>Jim didn't move. "I bet you couldn't make a friend even if you tried."<br>Sherlock glared at him. "Is that a challenge?"  
>Jim shrugged. "Sure, if you want it to be." Suddenly, he grinned. "You want a game? I'll give you a fucking game. I'm not selling you any more joints until you make a friend."<br>Sherlock snarled. "That's stupid. I'm giving you money."  
>Jim flung his arm around Sherlocks shoulders. "How about this, then," he cooed. "How about we have a little fun with John Watson?" <p>

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><p>Sherlock rapped his knuckles on the door, tapping his foot impatiantly. He'd just jogged across the whole town in desperation for more of Jim's weed. His addiction was getting bad, but he couldn't help it. He needed it. It was a good distraction.<br>He heard the click of a lock and the front door swung open. Jim stood there, his eyes red and tired-looking.  
>"Finally," snarled Sherlock, inviting himself inside. "Give me some. I need some. Please," he begged.<br>Jim sighed. "Don't you have any other friends you can bug," he scowled.  
>"Friends are unneccesary." Sherlock stated simply. "I've got the money, now hand some over."<br>Jim didn't move. "I bet you couldn't make a friend even if you tried."  
>Sherlock glared at him. "Is that a challenge?"<br>Jim shrugged. "Sure, if you want it to be." Suddenly, he grinned. "You want a game? I'll give you a fucking game. I'm not selling you any more joints until you make a friend."  
>Sherlock snarled. "That's stupid. I'm giving you money."<br>Jim flung his arms around Sherlock's shoulder. Sherlock cringed; he hated close contact.  
>"How about this, then," Jim cooed. "How about we have a little fun with John Watson?"<br>"The new kid?" Sherlock screwed his face up in disgust. "Why would I want anything to do with him?"  
>Jim chuckled darkly. "Let's make a bet. I'll sell you joints for half-price from now on, if you manage to convince John Watson that you're his friend by the end of the week."<br>Sherlock hesitated, torn between wanting to save money, and actually having to interact with someone for so long.  
>"Done," he said coldy. "But you better keep your side of the deal."<br>"Oh, I will, love." Jim winked. "Now here, take it and get the fuck out of my house." He tossed a box and Sherlock, who snatched it out of the air and stomped out of the house. 

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><p>John tapped his pencil on his paper, repeatedly. No matter how hard he tried to concentrate, he couldn't get those equations to make sense. His page was full of scribbles and crossed out sentences. He would've asked Jamie to help, but she was absent today, leaving the chair next to John lonely and empty. John sighed.<br>Suddenly, the chair was no longer empty. John looked up and recognised the boy he'd tried to talk to yesterday, the one with startling blue eyes and dark curls ...  
>John blinked. The boy had taken his paper and was now scribbling down the answers. He pushed the page back at John and grinned.<br>"Thought you might want some help," he said, pausing, before holding out his hand. "Sherlock Holmes."  
>John hesitated, then shook his hand. "John Watson ..." he said slowly. "Sorry, I tried to introduce myself yesterday ...?"<br>"Oh, that. Yes." Sherlocked waved his hand impatiantly. "I was busy. I get snappy when people interrupt me."  
>John waited for an apology, but none came. So he smiled politely. "Well," he said, looking down at his paper. "Thanks for your help."<br>"Your welcome."  
>John waited for Sherlock to leave, but the seat remained occupied.<br>The bell rang, breaking the awkward silence. John packed his things up, watching Sherlock out of the corner of his eye as he raced back to his desk to get his things. John was just walking out the door and up the hallway towards his locker when Sherlock caught up, panting.  
>"Try not to walk so fast, will you? I can hardly keep up."<br>John frowned. "Sorry," he apologized. He reached his locker and opened the door, shoving his things inside. When he closed the door, he expected Sherlock to be gone. But he was still there, staring intently at John.  
>"Mind if I come to the library with you?"<br>John smiled. "Of course not, " he replied. "Is this trying to make up for yesterday?"  
>Sherlock stiffened, his expression turning cold. But it was quickly replaced by smile that didn't quite reach his eyes.<br>"Of course," he laughed.  
>John looked down, avoiding Sherlock's eyes. He'd have to be careful with this one.<br>But he couldn't help wondering: was he about to become friends with the 'school freak'? 

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><p><em><strong>Sorry it took so long, I suffered a severe case of writer's block :(<strong>_  
><em><strong>Thank you for the reviews, they made me feel warm and fuzzy inside! I promise the next chapter will be up quicker, I've already got a good idea of what it'll contain.<strong>_  
><em><strong>As usual, reviews are always welcome!<strong>_

_**Oh, and by the way, there is a specific reason as to why Seb will not do drugs with Jim, which you'll find out later on!**_


	3. Chapter 3

Sherlock wasn't used to having friends. In fact, the only person close enough for him to call a friend was Jim, and what they had was not friendship. So when Sherlock took up the challenge of becoming John's friend, he did not stop to consider exactly how to approach him. The commonly used phrase "just be yourself" did not apply to Sherlock. If anything, he had to become someone entirely different.  
>It took some thought, but eventually Sherlock decided to just act as if the incident between him and John the other day had not happened. Just act casual, as if they were already friends. John wouldn't object; he'd been trying to make friends since his arrival. Sherlock knew he'd become friends with Jamie. He often saw the two of them sitting together during lunch breaks in the library.<br>Fortunately, Jamie was taking the week off; she had the flu. So John would need someone to sit with in class and at lunch, and that was where Sherlock came in.  
>All had gone as planned. John din't bring up the incident from his first day, but Sherlock noticed that he looked a little wary, and his body language showed that he didn't trust him. But that would soon change, if all went well.<br>It was Tuesday. Sherlock had three days to prove the Jim that he _could _make a friend. He'd show him. Sherlock often wondered if Jim had any other friends himself, but decided against it. He'd never seen Jim with anyone other than Sebastian Moran. Perhaps he should put Jim up to the same challenge.  
>Sherlock was opening his locker, gathering up his books for the first lesson of the day. Society and Environment. He despised it; why would he care about government politics, or who was at war with who. He couldn't care less about how landforms were made, or how cloud cover affected climate change. All that information was useless to him, so he 'deleted' it from his memory. Despite this, though, he was still getting an 'A' in the class.<br>He was just kicking his locker door shut when someone came running up to him, panting. It was John, who looked like he'd just ran a 100m dash in a sporting event. His face was flushed, and he rested against the locker, taking short, quick breaths.  
>"Alarm clock broke," he stated shortly. "Didn't wake me up in time. Thought I was going to be late."<br>Sherlock scoffed, before remembering his deal with Jim. _Be considerate_, he thought.  
>"Oh. That's a shame. So, er, you ran? All the way from home?"<br>John grinned. "Yep."  
><em>Wow, someone's dedicated<em>, Sherlock mocked in his head. "Well, you're just in time, so, uh, good job. What class do you have now?"  
>John thought for a moment. "Society and Environment."<br>"Well, hurry up, or I'll leave without you."

Lunch break only went for half an hour, but John always spent it in the library. At his old school, his friends would sit in there with him for about 10 minutes before dragging him out to play a game of football. But here, he could stay as long as he wanted. Or, until the bell rang.  
>So when the lunch bell rang, John grabbed his lunch from his locker and headed over t the library block. He sat on the seat outside to eat his lunch; they were not allowed food inside.<br>He was just taking a bite of the peanut butter sandwhich his mother had made for him, when Sherlock walked up and sat next to him. John noticed that he didn't have any lunch with him.  
>"Wow. You eat fast," John laughed. "Science class made you hungry, did it?"<br>Sherlock grimaced. "Well, ah, no. I ... didn't pack any lunch today. I forgot."  
>"Oh,' John replied. He wondered why Sherlock's parent's didn't check that he'd remembered, or even make it for him, like his mother did.<br>"Here," John said, holding out half of his sandwhich. "You can have some of mine. I don't mind, really."  
>Sherlock stared at him, then took it slowly. John managed to finish the rest of his sandwhich and an apple while Sherlock munched quietly on the sandwhich half. When they were both finished, they headed inside the library.<br>Sherlock disappeared into the Science-fiction area, while John headed into the Mystery section. He loved mystery books and detective stories. He plucked one off the shelf and settled into one of the couches, losing himself in an entirely different world. He was so distracted, in fact, that he didn't notice Sherlock peering quietly at him from behind a bookshelf, frowning slightly.  
>When the bell rang, John jumped a little. He'd been so lost in the book that he'd forgotten where he was. He placed the book back on the shelf and wandered towards the door. Sherlock appeared from the Science-fiction area and joined him.<br>Sherlock didn't utter a proper sentence for the rest of the day. He sat next to John in all the classes and occasionally uttered a word of help, but other than that, he remained silent, lost deep in his own thoughts.

Wednesday came and went, with no change. Sherlock would walk and sit with him, muttering the occasional 'yes' or 'no' in response to something John asked, but sat in total silence for the rest of the time. John wanted to ask what was on his mind, but it seemed a bit too forward; he didn't want to risk offending him or making him even more distant.  
>His mother noticed his concerned expression when he arrived home, but she assumed it was to do with the fact that John was soaking wet; he'd had to run home in the rain. She handed him an after-school snack and sent him upstairs to change.<br>When John took his empty plate and wet clothes back downstairs, he acted on a last minute decision.  
>"Mum," he began. "Can I have a friend over after school tomorrow?"<br>His mother looked surprised. "Of course, John. Making friends quickly, aren't you? That's good to hear."  
>So John thought carefully about how he would ask Sherlock. Make it seem like a casual offer, maybe. Like he always had people over at his house. But when morning came and John saw Sherlock at his locker, John froze. Asking a friend around after school shouldn't make him this nervous, but it did. Because this wasn't just anybody. This was Sherlock, the boy who's reactions could be predicted by no one. This could either go well, or backfire completely.<br>John braced himself and walked over. "Sherlock," he started. "I was wondering, did you want to -"  
>Sherlock cut him off. "Did you know that Mary Morstan fancies you?" He was gathering up his books and didn't even look at John.<br>"I ... what? Mary ... who? How do you know?"  
>"Mary Morstan. Sits two rows and three seats away from us in History. I can tell by the way she looks at you as she passes us in the hall. They way she tries to improve her appearence whenever she catches sight of you. Before you arrived at this school, her hair was never that tidy. And I notice she's started wearing more makeup ... trying to catch your attention? More likely to make herself more appealing, physically. No amount of foundation could cover up the blush she gets when you walk into the room. Did you not notice how she followed us to our lockers yesterday? She'll probably slip a note into your locker sometime soon." Sherlock nudged his locker shut with his foot, then turned and headed off towards class. John stood there, stunned for a second, then raced after him.<br>"How did you notice all that? How is that even ... possible?"  
>Sherlock rolled his eyes. "I observe."<br>John shook his head. "Lot's of people observe, but you don't hear them deducing tiny details like that."  
>"No, John. They do not observe. They see, but they do not observe."<br>They had just arrived at their class, which just happened to be History. John glanced towards the back of the class. A girl looked up and made eye contact, blushed then looked away, fiddling with her long, blonde plait.  
>John sat next to Sherlock, shocked. "You're right. Wow ... I never even knew she existed."<br>Sherlock frowned lightly. "If you have any inclination to become romantically involved with her, try not to repeat that in front of her, it probably won't help."  
>"Alright, Mr. Matchmaker. Look, I was wondering ... did you want to come around to my house after school today?"<br>Sherlock froze, then turned and stared at John.  
>John blushed. "I mean, you know, if you aren't busy ... just for a bit ... so you can, uh - uh ... help me study. Yeah, I'm doing pretty badly with that Science homework, d'you reckon you could help me?"<br>Sherlock narrowed his eyes. After a slight pause, he nodded slowly. "Yes, I suppose that would be quite fine ... yes. I'll help you study."  
>John felt relieved. But he was slightly nervous, and wished for the day to go slowly.<br>It did not. Before he knew it, the final bell had rung and kids were shooting out of classrooms in every direction, rushing to go home. It was Thursday, and the local mall was open late. Students often went to see late movies or go shopping. Not much homework was done on a Thursday night.  
>Not in John's case, though. As he had only Jamie for the past two weeks, he didn't feel comfortable going there with the other kids. Not yet, anyway.<br>He waited while Sherlock put his books away in his locker, then headed outside. He only lived a few streets away, but the walk there was long and silent.  
>John unlocked the front door, pushing it open slowly. He had never been more nervous in his life. <p>

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><p>Sherlock had never been invited over to someone's house before. No one had ever shared their lunch with him, either. It felt strange. Sharing was not one of Sherlock's childhood experiences. Everyone had shunned him, which is why he in turn now shunned everyone in highschool. But to have someone actually share something with him and invite him somewhere ... it felt strange. Not right. Sherlock didn't like it, and the sooner this deal was over and done with, the better. He had not anticipated this; having to hang around with John after school.<br>_Is this was friends do_? Sherlock thought as they walked away from the school. _Can't friends just sit with each other in class and walk around with them?  
><em>Sherlock thought about the other day, when John had shared his lunch. Sherlock never had any lunch. He never ate at school; he thought it interferred with his concentration to get tasks done. Also, his father never seemed to bother with it. His older brother, Mycroft, should be overseeing the lunch and snacks, but somehow he always seemed to forget about Sherlock.  
>Mycroft. The suck-up. The favourite child. Mycroft planned to go into the Government once he recieved his top marks for Politics. Their parents were so proud. They seemed to ignore the fact that Sherlock could really become whatever he wanted, with the marks he was recieving. But he chose to do, as his parents called them, "silly little experiments that result in nothing useful at all".<br>So at home, he was mostly shunned, as he was at school. He'd been alone for most of his life, and preferred it that way. He didn't like this whole "friendship" thing, and would be glad when it was over.  
>They'd reached his front porch now. John unlocked the door and swung it open. It was a small little two-story cottage, with a little front garden and verandah. Sherlock thought it looked much cosier than his big mansion on the other side of town.<br>He liked John's room even better. It looked warmer and more inviting than his own. There was a single bed in the corner, a small desk by the window, a bookshelf filled with rows of books, and a wardrobe.  
>Sherlock sat on the bed and unzipped his bag. "Right, so, what do you need help with?"<br>John hesitated, then at at his desk. "Um, my chemistry. I don't understand the equations ..."  
>So they sat like this for two hours, working on John's equations. When the clock struck 5, Sherlock shut his text books and shoved them back in his bag. "I'd better be off now. I'll help you some more in class tomorrow." And he was out of the door before John could reply. <p>

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><p><em>What's happening<em>? Sherlock was lying on his bed, staring up at the ceiling. He couldn't understand his feelings. As much as he tried to hate John like everyone else, there was a part of him that kept remembering the lunch incident on Tuesday. Despite the fact that he never ate at school, he didn't decline because his feelings had caught him off-guard. He'd felt more ... included. Like someone actually _wanted_ him there. He'd never felt that before. It was ... nice.  
>Maybe ... just maybe ... he wouldn't have to pretend anymore. <p>

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><p>Sorry it took so long! I've been quite busy at work, so I do apologize. As always, reviews are welcome! :)<p> 


	4. Chapter 4

Sherlock woke the next morning feeling strange. He thought he might be sick, but then he was able to place it; he felt cheerful. Not completely happy, he'd never felt that before. But he felt more tolerable of the people around him. Mycroft's boring stories at the breakfast table, his mother snapping at him to hurry up and get ready. Usually, he pretended not to be bothered by his family, but he knew that somewhere, deep down, he really did wish that they cared about him.  
>As he tried to place the source of his cheerfulness, he got dressed and brushed his teeth before heading outside. Despite his brain being currently occupied with this puzzle, he couldn't help but notice the dark rain clouds hovering above the town. It was going to rain later, for sure.<br>Sherlock was still trying to figure out the reason for his mood when he walked into the locker room, almost walking right past his own locker. He continued to frown in concentration when he heard a voice call out his name.  
>"Sherlock!"<br>He turned and, as soon as he caught sight of the caller, his confusion melted away.  
>John.<br>He was waving, beckonning Sherlock over. Sherlock shut his locker and walked over, grinning.  
>"Guess what I found out!" John said. "My next door neighbour. It's Jim Moriarty! You know, that guy from Chemistry class. I saw him there this morning."<br>Sherlock tried to smile, but it was more like a grimace. "Wow. Well, I guess we both know which house to avoid when selling Girl Guide cookies."  
>It was supposed to be sarcasm, but John laughed like he was serious.<br>As they heade towards their first class, Jim passed them in the hallway. He caught Sherlock's eye and smirked.  
>Their deal would be over by the end of the day. Then Sherlock go back to being his normal, friendless self again.<br>For a second, thinking about that made Sherlock sad. Then he snapped out of it and frowned, a new problem arising.  
>How was he going to get rid of John? <p>

* * *

><p>John shot nervous side-glances at Sherlock as they sat in chemistry. Something was definitely bothering him. He hadn't spoken a word since this morning. John had to stop himself asking about four times; he didn't think Sherlock would appreciate John's concern. All the same, it worried him. He didn't like it when Sherlock was so secretive.<br>Sherlock still hadn't spoken as class finished and the headed out to lunch. The library was closed today, so they chose a grassy spot under a huge oak tree next to the oval. John, noticing that Sherlock had once again failed to bring lunch, offered him half his sandwhich. Sherlock accepted it with a quick thanks, the first word he'd uttered since this morning. He ate it quickly, then went back to frowning down at his hands, which were ripping up little chuncks of grass. It was this sight that made John snap.  
>"Sherlock ... Sherlock, what's wrong? You haven't spoken since this morning, you've just been frowning at everything, and ... well, not looked very happy at all. I mean, you never do, but you've just looked like you're ... bothered about something. And, I dunno, you can tell me if you want. I mean, I - I can help ..." John trailed off into silence, quickly averting his eyes from Sherlock's piercing gaze.<br>When John finally looked up again, Sherlock was smiling slightly.  
>"I'm fine, John. Really. I've just been thinking all day. If it wasn't for school, I'd be spending days on end lying in my bed, staring at my ceiling, thinking. You don't need to worry about anything." He looked down at his hands, resuming ripping the grass up.<br>John relaxed. "Alright. That sounds like something you'd do, anyway."  
>Sherlock looked up. "You ... you don't mind?"<br>John laughed. "Of course not. Maybe I'll just do the same thing. We can both see who can go the longest without talking."  
>Sherlock slwoly started grinning. He looked back down, weaving the grass through his fingers, still grinning.<br>And they spent the rest of the day in total silence, lost in their own thoughts, enjoying each other's company. 

* * *

><p>John nudged the front door closed with his foot, dumping his bag by the coat hook in the hallway. He shook his wet hair out of his face; it had rained on his way home from school.<p>

Poking his head around the corner of the kitchen door, he saw Harry and his mother making dinner. He waved, then turned and headed upstairs, taking two steps at a time. Bounding into his bedroom, and leaped onto his bed and lay there, grinning at the ceiling.  
>He liked being friends with Sherlock. It wasn't like an ordinary friendship. It was very different. He never knew what Sherlock would do, there was no way of predicting his actions. He was smart, too. He seemed to know everything about everyone, just by looking at them.<br>John knew there was a lot more to Sherlock than there seemed, and he was determined to find out all there was to know.  
>He closed his eyes and went over the past week in his head. How everything had changed so suddenly. He'd been alone at the beginning. The new kid. No one to walk with, no one to sit with in class. Then Sherlock had come along. John had been told that Sherlock had no friends, mostly because he didn't want any. Then he'd come up to John and stayed. He'd wanted to be John's friend.<br>When John opened his eyes, he was still grinning at the ceiling.

* * *

><p>Over the other side of town, Sherlock was lying in his bed, staring at the ceiling. Thinking.<br>Being friends with John ... it made Sherlock feel lighter. Like he had less to worry about. He had someone to walk next to, and it made him feel a little less sullen towards everyone else. It was interesting to observe how John reacted to everything, how his feelings interfered with reactions and how he saw but did not observe. How he chewed his pencil when he was thinking, how different emotions flickered across his face when reading a book. How he looked shyly down at his shoes when girls smiled at him. How he felt the need to be nice to everyone. It was ... interesting.  
>But Sherlock had decided. He wasn't going to continue this friendship. He wasn't used to having to deal with someone elses feelings, or explaining how he saw things to someone who refused to observe the way he did. It would be easier to go back to normal now, before Sherlock began to get too attatched.<br>So it was with the usual sullen look that he went to Jim's place to claim his end of the deal.  
>Jim was laughing as he handed a small box to Sherlock. "I knew you could do it. But who knew John would become so attatched? It's been hilarious to watch. I think you're going to have a hard time getting rid of that one."<br>Sherlock grimaced, pocketing the box. "It shouldn't be too hard. Well, it was nice doing business with you."  
>Jim chuckled darkly. "Until next time, then."<br>On his way out, Sherlock's eyes avoided the house next door.

* * *

><p><em><strong>Sorry this chapter is so short! I needed to cut it off early because everything that happens next needs to be in one big chapter, which shall be next :) <strong>_  
><em><strong>Oh, and holy wow, thank you all so much for the reviews! I'm stoked that people are actually reading my work! Let me know what you think of this one :)<strong>_


	5. Chapter 5

When Sherlock arrived at school on Monday morning, he'd decided to simply ignore John. He wouldn't explain anything, wouldn't return his greetings or answer any questions. He would just say nothing. John would assume he was in one of his moods, and eventually he'd get sick of the silence and leave Sherlock alone.  
>At least, that was what Sherlock hoped for.<p>

He was just taking his books out of his locker when John walked up.

"I can't believe it's Monday already. The weekend went way too fast, didn't it? Didn't even get to have a proper sleep in. What did you get up to?" John babbled away.

Sherlock shrugged, heading off towards class. It didn't throw John off; he followed Sherlock like a lost puppy.

"We have History first, right? Or was it Maths ..."

Sherlock shrugged yet again, although he knew it was History. He turned into the classroom and chose a seat up the front. John followed, sitting next to him.

"I managed to finish the homework, though. Did you? Oh, of course you did. That was a silly question." He laughed.

Still, Sherlock did not respond. He simply opened his book and began reading.

John took the hint, falling silent. Throughout the rest fo the class, he threw worried glances at Sherlock out of the corner of his eye. As they headed to their other classes, John did not ask what the problem was. In fact, he said nothing at all. He remained silent, doing his work quietly, not seeming bothered by the coldness radiating from Sherlock.

It was this that first made Sherlock question his decision.

* * *

><p>It was Wednesday, and still Sherlock had not uttered a single word to John. And yet he remained with Sherlock, walking next to him in the halls at school, sitting next to him during class, occasionally lending him a pen. Sherlock was beginning to worry that John would never give up.<p>

But what made Sherlock worry the most was that no matter what his brain told him, his heart knew that deep down, he didn't want John to give up.

He enjoyed John's company. Never mind the fact that he'd denied other's friendship since he could walk, he genuinly enjoyed having John sitting next to him, whether he be silent or babbling about the weather. But most of all, it was the fact that John shared things without being asked. When John shared his lunch, it was almost as if he actually worried about Sherlock not eating, like he actually cared. Sherlock had never recieved any sort of care like that from his family.

Sherlock was pondering this on Thursday morning, sitting in the common room. The common room was where the students went if they had a free period, to study or to read.

John was late. Sherlock wasn't worried, he'd brushed it aside and blamed it on a missed bus or forgotten book. But when John did turn up, what Sherlock saw wiped those conclusions out completely.

John shuffled into the classroom, keeping his head down. Instead of joining Sherlock, he went straight past him and sat by himself over the other side of the classroom. Still not looking up, he seemed to reach into his bag and take out a completely random book, open it and staring at the words, not taking a word of it in.

Without thinking, Sherlock jumped up and hurried over, filled with concern.

He sat next to John, turning his chair so he faced him. John did not look up.

Sherlock frowned. "John?"

John kept staring at the book. "Hello, Sherlock," he replied. His tone was casual, which scared Sherlock even more.

And, for maybe the third time in his life, Sherlock uttered the line. "What's wrong?" But this time, he truly cared.  
>John still did not look up. "Nothing! I don't know what you mean. I'm fine. Just trying to finish this book, that's all."<br>Sherlock looked down, then back up. "John, you finished that book yesterday. I saw you."

John shrugged.

Sherlock snapped. "John, I demand that you look at me. If you don't, I will take this book and hit you with it until you look at me."

John winced. Then, slowly, he turned and looked up.

Sherlock gasped.

A huge, dark bruise was forming over John's left eye. He had dark shadows under both his eyes; he obviously hadn't had any sleep last night. He looked so scared and fragile that this, on top of everything else, made Sherlock angry.

He grabbed John's wrists. "Who did this. John, who did this to you?" he demanded.

John shook his head. "It doesn't matter," he said softly.

"Doesn't matter? John, don't say that. Like hell it doesn't matter! _Who did this to you_?" Sherlock snarled.  
>John looked back down at his book. Suddenly, Sherlock jumped up, his chair clattering to the floor. He dragged John into a standing position.<p>

"_Who did it_?" Sherlock shouted.

By now, the whole class had gone silent, staring at the two of them. A few caught sight of John's bruise, gasping quietly.

John bit his lip. "It ... it was Jim and Sebastian."

Sherlock's face went blank. "What?"

John shrugged. "It doesn't matter."

"Yes, it does. It does matter, John. It matters a whole lot more than you think."

And with that, Sherlock ran out of the classroom. Down the hall, past all the doors, around the corner, until he reached the English classroom. He knocked on the door, tapping his foot impatiently.

The door opened, revealing Ms Stonem, the English professor. She raised her eyebrows at him.

"Yes, Sherlock?"

Sherlock attempted to steady his voice and appear calm. "Miss, I need a quick word with Jim. Jim Moriarty. It's about a science assignment," he lied.

Ms Stonem sighed. "Very well, but be quick. I'll go and get him."

She disappeared, closing the door behind her. When it reopened, Jim walked out, a blank expression on his face. He closed the classroom door.

"What do you want? I don't know anything about science, so why - "

Sherlock cut him off by punching him in the face, hard. Jim stumbled back, massaging his jaw.

"_What the fuck was that for_?"

"You know perfectly well what that was for, Jim," spat Sherlock.

Just as he said this, John and the rest of his classmates appeared around the corner. John ran to Sherlock.

"You mean _that_? Jim laughed, pointing at John. "Come off it. Why would you care? He deserved it -"

Jim was cut off by Sherlock launching himself at him, slamming him into the wall, pinning him there.

"Don't. Touch. Him. Ever again. Do you hear me? Don't go near him. Don't even fucking_ look_ at him," Sherlock snarled.

Jim chuckled. "Getting a little protective, are we?" he whispered.

Sherlock threw another punch at him, and this time, Jim responded in kind. Soon, fists where flying, and they were soon on the floor, kicking and yelling. John tried to break them apart, but one of his classmates pulled him back.  
>Suddenly, the classroom door flew open and Ms Stonem ran out, screaming.<p>

"Stop it! Stop it _now_! What do you think you're doing?"

She pulled Jim off Sherlock, yanking him into a standing position. Sherlock lept up off the ground, panting.  
>"Disgraceful behaviour, both of you," Ms Stonem huffed. "Headmaster's office. Now."<p>

She turned to shoo everyone else back to their classrooms. Sherlock turned, stomping off up the hallway. Jim followed slowly after, but not before catching John's eye and giving him a wink.

* * *

><p>Sherlock stalked into the science classroom, saw John sitting up the back, and headed over, muttering his excuses to the teacher. He threw himself into the seat with a huff, slamming his books down onto the table.<br>John turned to him. "That was a bloody fool thing to do. Why did you go and do that? Have you been suspended or anything?"

Sherlock shook his head. "No, just a detention. Jim and Sebastian have been suspended, however."

"Really?" John gasped. "Well, serves them right, I suppose."

Sherlock turned to him. "When did it happen?" he asked softly.

John turned back to his work. "After school, yesterday. On my way home. They came out of nowhere ..."

Sherlock surprised himself by placing his hand on John's shoulder. "Well, from now on, I'm going to walk home with you. I can't let that happen again."

John turned and looked gratefully up at him, smiling.

And it was at that moment that Sherlock realized just how much John meant to him. And he would do anything to protect him.

* * *

><p><strong>Once again, a huge thank you for the reviews! They give me the warm fuzzies, knowing that people enjoy my work :)<strong>  
><strong>I tried a new layout for this one, because I was reading some other fics and noticed they were done a little differently, and I found it easier to read. Let me know if you think it's better or not!<strong>  
><strong>Happy reading! :)<strong>


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